


scarves and rubies

by erythea



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/type Redline
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Pre-Canon, oryou/ryouma/izou if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26427913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erythea/pseuds/erythea
Summary: Okada Izou remembers the day he met Oryou.Her eyes were like the way he thought rubies were — shiny, red and pretty right where they ought to be. He could never have things like that, not when his pockets were empty, but they were nice to look at.So Izou looked.
Relationships: Oryou-san/Okada Izou | Assassin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30





	scarves and rubies

**Author's Note:**

> Is this historically inaccurate? Obviously, but I did my best to make the story semi-coherent.
> 
> For reference, the fic starts in the year 1863, before Izou gets hired as Katsu Kaishu's bodyguard.

Okada Izou remembers the day he met Oryou.

She was a beauty who stood out in the busy streets of the capital, browsing the market on a clear January morning. Although she was clad in a plain kimono and long scarf, her fair face and hair like ink drew the attention of the crowd. Izou particularly liked her eyes. Women around these parts didn’t have eyes like hers. Her eyes were like the way he thought rubies were — shiny, red and pretty right where they ought to be. He could never have things like that, not when his pockets were empty, but they were nice to look at.

A soul that wasn’t his in a land that wasn’t hers. His teacher once said strangers were the enemy. Izou’s heart was simpler than that.

So Izou looked.

The woman with ruby eyes seemed to float on air as she flitted from one stall to the other like a kid in a candy store, sampling every snack she laid her eyes on with awe and wonder. Every time she bought a treat, her face lit up, and Izou felt the warmth of the sun. He didn’t know people could make faces like that. He knew anger and fear, sorrow and suspicion. But joy?

Curiosity got a hold of him. He began to follow those ruby eyes, sneaking glances across the street where she shopped each morning. When begging got him nowhere, the sight of her alone filled his stomach for hours.

But stealth was an art Izou perfected in the night. In broad daylight with nothing to eat, his footsteps fell out of rhythm. He bumped into a dango stall. Tripped over kids playing tag. He made his clumsy way around the market like this, taking interest in a stranger the only way he knew how.

Soon, people were wary. They looked at Izou funny, recoiled when he glared back. Back in Kyoto, no one would even dare. But it was happening again. All these people looking at him like some stray dog. Poor man. Stupid man. Damn Tosa bastard in his damn dirty rags. Couldn’t talk to a woman like that if he tried. And he knew that. He knew he couldn’t touch her. He wouldn’t dare speak to her. He just wanted to see her.

He was so hungry.

Her name was Oryou, he learned from Takasugi. A samurai’s wife. Lucky man.

People didn’t like Oryou. They said she was too pretty, or not pretty enough. She was too foreign, or not foreign enough. Some said she was too strong. Others said she was a dragon. Izou liked that one.

When February came around, Takasugi gave Izou a place to stay. His body still ached, but he waited outside for Oryou all the same. Maybe if he waited long enough, his teacher would take him back, too. Dragons gave him strength, or something.

One day, Oryou noticed.

Izou was so taken by her beauty that he’d forgotten to hide himself. There he stood in the middle of the street, watching slack-jawed as she tucked her hair behind her ear, and then, entirely by chance, she met his eyes with a soft, passing glance.

Then it hardened.

Her gaze was a dagger to Izou’s neck, sharp and warm as the bloodied steel of his blade. He was stunned into awestruck silence. The women from the capital weren’t like this. They turned their noses in disgust or cowered in fear. But not Oryou. Her bold eyes locked with his, pulling him in with great intensity, and all he could do was succumb to her. Couldn’t let his knees give in, so he tore his gaze away. Pink-tinged awe turned into beet-red embarrassment. He dragged a hand down his face. _Stupid, stupid._ Staring like an idiot when he’s starving like a dog. Was this how he wasted his time?

But then her elbow jabbed a man in the ribs. Her slender hand pointed in Izou’s direction. The man next to her, Sakamoto Ryouma, gave Izou a bright smile.

“Oh, Izou-san, as I live and breathe!”

The capital was a place full of strangers, but at the end of the day, Ryouma called him brother.

Izou abandoned all thoughts and ran toward him. He was always happy to see a friend.

Ryouma paid for Izou’s lunch at the local restaurant, and they talked. Izou liked talking to Ryouma. They’d often found each other in big cities with big people, but whenever they met, Japan felt smaller.

They sat around a tea table the way they used to, Ryouma cross-legged and Izou with one knee propped up. Izou apologized for the trouble, but Ryouma and the bowls of fish and rice soon wiped the worry off his face, and he was grinning again. It had been a while since he felt right at home.

“How’ve ya been, Ryouma? Edo treatin’ ya all right? You see all sorts coming through those ports…”

Ryouma left Tosa some time ago. That made him dangerous, but that was just like him. Izou? He didn’t care. Ryouma wasn’t that good with a sword, anyway. It made Izou wonder how he lasted this long.

“Never been better. They do things right differently in the West. I hope we can use what I learn to make things better here, and I don't mean just in Edo.” Ryouma creased his brows in worry. “Are you all right, Izou-san? I heard from the others…”

Izou let out a burst of laughter too loud.

“Takechi-sensei’s been helping me out! You're not the only one working his ass off. Been learnin’ a lot of styles while you were gone. Oh, you should come back to us! I’ll get a good word in for ya!”

Ryouma made a difficult face. “I ain’t so sure… Mighty busy with a lot of things these days. You are, too, aren’t you?”

Izou didn't know what Ryouma meant by that. Part of Izou was afraid he already knew.

“Anyway, it’s good you’re working hard. Best swordsman in Japan, right?"

“Well…” Izou rubbed his nose. “Heh! Don’t be surprised if I end up being the next Miyamoto Musashi.”

“Oh? Well, you were already a genius back then…” Ryouma remarked, genuinely surprised. “Didn’t Musashi wield two swords?”

Izou’s expression soured, but not for long. “I’m working on it! Right now, I’m already ten mill—ten billion times better than ya last saw me! Not so bad, eh?” Izou puffed his chest out and jerked a thumb at himself. “I’m gonna be the best in the world before you know it!”

“I don’t doubt it. Gunmen are more popular in the West, but people like you could really help others, too.”

“People like me?” Izou’s enthusiasm faltered as confusion settled in, but Ryouma’s eyes remained as clear as the sky.

“That’s right. Protecting others is just as hard to do as any profession. But I’m not just talking about your swordsmanship, Izou-san. Your willingness to learn from others, your focus on a single goal, your courage to speak to someone like me… That side of you is admirable, my friend. I think all of us could really learn from you.”

Ryouma smiled as he said this. Izou remembers that, too.

“You…” Izou scratched his head and laughed as embarrassment colored his cheeks. “Aww, shucks! You sure know how to get a guy on your side, hahaha!”

“This bug’s your friend, Ryouma?” Oryou asked as she watched the waitress pour them tea. “He was staring at us back at the market like a weirdo. Can I punch him?”

Captivating as she was, the woman with ruby eyes didn’t fill Izou’s heart the same way once she began to speak. The rumors were half-true: she was an arrogant eccentric who liked to start fights faster than she wanted to end them. Izou wished he didn’t blush a moment earlier and he wished she wouldn’t remember that now. Izou knew Ryouma liked them feisty, but he could have at least picked one who didn’t want to lop his head off.

Ryouma winced.

“I’d like it if you didn’t... Oh! Where are my manners? Oryou-san, I’d like you to meet Okada Izou. We’re from the same domain, Izou-san and I. He’s the number one swordsman in Tosa.”

Izou preened.

“Izou-san, this is Oryou. She’s been helping me out lately, and I can say she’s a very reliable partner.”

Oryou showed off her nonexistent muscles.

“Partner?” Izou turned the word over in his head as he took a sip of tea.

Then he spat it out and slammed his cup down.

“Ahh! You’re the samurai’s wife!” He jabbed a finger at Oryou, then directed it at said samurai with an even greater fury. “Ryoumaaa! You sayin’ you got hitched without tellin’ me?”

“You got it.”

“Not exactly.”

Oryou and Ryouma gave each other a pointed look and Izou could only marvel at how they answered in perfect sync.

“Well… long story short, I stopped by Oryou-san’s to help her out with something that gave her trouble for a very long time. But by the time I arrived at my place, she was already waiting for me. She’s been with me ever since.”

Izou wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad news, but at the time, all he felt was relief.

“Heh!” Izou leaned back, gesturing at her with his tea cup. “Some wife. A stray cat’s what she is!”

Oryou rolled her eyes. “At least Oryou-san’s not a dog. All you’ve done is tail us and yap all day.”

Izou lunged forward, jostling the table and spilling all their tea. “What did you say?! You’re lucky my sword ain’t for the likes of you, or I woulda..!”

“Oh? Are you approaching me?” Oryou raised her fists and bounced on her heels, battle-ready.

“I can’t beat the shit outta ya if I don’t get any closer!”

“Lemme at him, Ryouma. I’ll crack his skull.”

“Now, now.”

Ryouma placed himself between the two to placate them, and he would learn to get used to it.

All she cared about was Ryouma.

Izou could see why. On the surface, Ryouma was the same as any other samurai out there. He was just a little better at talking, maybe. A little better at thinking. Smelled less like sake in the morning. Didn’t talk much about women either, except the ones who raised him. Maybe that’s what she liked to hear.

Was this why Ryouma left? To be happy? Izou never took him for the type to settle down, but he was smarter than Izou so maybe he could do that. If Izou killed enough men, could he do that?

Izou didn’t know. All he knew was he was small. A speck of dirt. An insignificant bug.

But on some days, he couldn’t help himself.

“What’s this, bug?”

Oryou held the mochi Izou gave her as if it was a sacred relic. Ryouma was meeting with others, and Izou—well, Izou liked to pretend he was standing guard.

“It’s a snack. You eat it.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Oryou knows that. Ryouma taught her about it. I mean, why are you giving it to me? Is it my birthday?”

Izou did a double take. “Is it?”

“No.”

“Then don’t ask!” he snapped.

“Hmm… it’s not bad. So some bugs do know their manners.” She nodded to herself. “Oryou-san is always in the mood to receive gifts.”

“Yeah, yeah, call it whatever ya want. Just stop being weird and don’t think about Ryouma anymore.”

“Stupid. Oryou’s always gonna think about Ryouma.”

“Well,” Izou said after a while, never quite recovering. “He’s always gotta go back somewhere. Someone to come back to at a time like this… Ain’t that a good thing?”

“Yeah.”

Oryou bit into the mochi, chewed, and began talking about all the times Ryouma came home. Izou snorted — he was happy with that.

Ryouma said he had a job for Izou. The swordsman, ever on the lookout for cash and opportunity, could only happily oblige. Ryouma said he was confident in Izou’s talent with a sword, and Izou liked it when people said he had talent. Words like those beat a stiff drink any day.

But before Ryouma could introduce Izou to his first client, he had important matters to attend to. Oryou was to be Izou until then. Izou didn’t like it when people said that. _Important matters._ That meant things they didn’t think he’d understand. Things they didn’t want him to hear. And maybe they didn’t matter to him. And maybe that was all true. But even so, Izou could not ignore the growing distance between him and the friend he used to play with by the riverbank.

Looking back, Izou thinks Oryou knew. She saw Izou’s sulking form, focused and hunched like a dog in wait. He didn’t talk to her. He wasn’t scared of her. He didn’t even want to fight her. She saw all this, and grew tired of it. She didn’t wait for permission. Without warning, she tugged on Izou’s sleeve, hooked him by the arm and led him down the river.

“This is where the great Oryou-san has her fun.”

Oryou kicked her wooden sandals off and began splashing along the river’s shore. She didn’t care if her kimono touched the water. _They’re my clothes,_ she said. _I’ll be the one washing them anyway._ Izou opened his mouth to tell her that wasn’t the problem, but he realized common sense was something neither of them actually had the authority to speak about.

She crouched, leaned slightly toward the freshwater, and tugged her mouth open.

“When Oryou-san lies over here, she opens her mouth and everything jumps right in.”

Izou squinted at the clear waters and the riverbed below, where fish and frogs swam up and down as they went on with their lives. Briefly, he wondered how animals felt seconds before landing in a giant woman’s mouth.

There wasn’t much to do here.

“This all you do, woman?” He gestured vaguely at the woods around them. “Eat frogs and splash around?”

She propped her chin up on her palm and looked up at the sky, eyes distant like in those paintings of European women who did nothing but dream. Not that he’s seen many.

“Oryou-san was like you. She used to ask the gods to fight her.”

Izou raised a brow and sat next to her, shoulder to shoulder. “Used to?”

Oryou often said things that didn’t make sense to Izou, but her entire existence didn’t make sense to him either, so he decided to stop thinking about it. Sure, she was an orochi who fought the gods. It wasn’t hard to imagine. That wild imagination sounded like the kind of thing Ryouma would fall for.

“Oryou-san liked fighting, so she made herself strong. But if anything happened to her, Ryouma wouldn’t have anybody…” Oryou played with the ends of her hair and looked at the water below. “So Oryou stopped asking.”

“Heh.” Izou smirked. “Coward.”

“Whatever.”

Oryou splashed water in Izou’s direction, but not a drop reached him. It wasn’t like her. She was made of dragon scales and teeth, fists like fangs and eyes like the moon. Nothing was supposed to touch her, but this strong creature who could move mountains turned away from him, and for the first time, he saw her blush.

“He wouldn’t have nobody, ya dummy.” Izou nudged her with an elbow. “He’d have me!”

He cracked a smile.

“Go fight all the gods you want. We’ll be right here when you’re done!”

Oryou looked up at him with pink cheeks and ruby eyes, stunned to silence. Then, she flicked his forehead.

“Ow! The hell was that for!?”

“You expect Oryou-san to fall for that, bug?”

“What’s that? You sayin’ I’m a liar!?” As menacing as he tried to sound, how he nursed the spot between his eyebrows didn’t help his case.

“No,” said Oryou, lifting her chin as she went back to watching the river. “Oryou-san’s just saying… you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep. Stupid.”

Izou snorted and winced.

“I won’t die that easily! I’m… the genius from Tosa!” He nodded to himself. If he said it enough times, he could believe it. Maybe it would even come true. Was it so hard to see him alive? Life has always been survival of the fittest. He was strong enough.

“Ryouma said I was good at protectin’ stuff. Can’t be good at that if I die…”

She tilted her head. “Protecting who?”

“I dunno. The guys...” Izou’s ears grew hot. He sank into his scarf. “You.”

“Gross.”

The word stabbed Izou square in the chest, sharper than any blade. He braced himself for another round of verbal abuse, too, but all Oryou did was hug her knees.

“…Aren’t you scared of me?”

“Scared?”

“I’m not like you.” Oryou pouted. “I’m strong and beautiful… And gross and weird."

"Eating frogs is fucking gross," he said. "But you're a dragon, so that makes sense, right?"

"I'm not even a dragon. If I was a real dragon, you and Ryouma wouldn’t be so sad when you talk. I’d be the strongest in Japan. I’d have all the frogs I want, humans won’t have to fight each other, and we’d all be happy. That sounds good, right?”

“Hah! Sounds great when you put it like that.”

Izou leaned back on his arms, looked up at the sky filtered through the leaves, and thought about all the times he played by the riverbank. There were clear skies those days, too.

“You’re the weirder one,” she continued. “You talk to humans like Ryouma and snakes like me.”

Izou snorted. “I don’t give a shit what you are. To me, you’re just a stray cat, following whoever feeds ya… And I’m just a dog doing the same. Heh, I ain’t even the cute kind.”

She hummed and tugged her scarf over her lips. “You are. Just a little.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Oryou stood up and tugged on Izou’s arm to help him do the same. “Get up, bug. Ryouma should be done soon.”

Izou had money again, so he was drunk on a Wednesday evening. He reeked of sake and tobacco as he stumbled onto the streets, and if he ever didn’t fall face first onto the ground, it was because he had the fortune of having Oryou catch him. On nights when Ryouma was already fast asleep, only Oryou had the strength and patience to bring Izou home on her back. She claimed to be frog-hunting. Izou never thought twice about it.

“You keep going to brothels. Can’t get a girlfriend yet?”

“You know I could,” he said in his stupor. “You know I—can’t. No. Can’t do that.”

“Tsk, tsk, bug. That’s why you’re no match for Oryou-san.”

“Yeah,” he sobbed on her shoulder. “No match for anybody, am I?”

“It’s not like you to be chicken, bug,” she mused. “But I guess whatever’s stopping you is a pretty big deal, huh?”

“Iss fine,” he slurred. “I’ll protect her. I promised — I told Ryouma…”

He was quiet after that, so she jostled and adjusted his weight up her back. He didn’t make a sound. Izou didn’t know what Oryou mumbled then, but he remembered her shoulder being very warm that cold winter night.

In the year they’d known each other, their meetings were a habit now. After his duties with Katsu Kaishu, he ran off to the river as soon as his schedule allowed it. Oryou would be half an hour early or half an hour late, but she’d always be there, wading in the shallow waters.

Today was a little different.

“I got somethin' to say.”

There was not a threat to their lives in the woods, but Izou gripped at the hilt of his sword for a sense of the familiar.

“You don't have to say nothin', I just... I just wanted you to know."

“Say it already,” she said. “Oryou-san doesn’t have all day. We still have to make fun of each other, splash at each other, and almost kill each other.”

Izou stole a glance at her, and her ruby eyes were full of life.

He tugged at his scarf. He didn’t like the murmurs he’d begun to hear. Ryouma gave him a job, the skies were clear. It felt like nothing else could go wrong, but it was happening again. Poor man. Stupid man. Damn Tosa bastard in his damn dirty rags.

“Sometimes I don't think I'll last long…”

“I’m surprised you’re even up and kicking.”

“Me too,” Izou said with a forced laugh. “But lately I’ve been thinking it’s for real.”

“Huh.”

Oryou splashed around.

“...Oryou-san had a feeling this would happen. That you were about to go somewhere far, far away. Ryouma didn’t tell me anything. It’s just Oryou-san’s seventh sense.”

Izou knew better than to ask her about her sixth sense, so he let her continue.

“Soon, it'll just be Oryou-san and Ryouma. She'll have no one to beat up anymore.”

“Can ya stop thinking about beating me up for once?!”

“I don’t think about beating you up all the time,” she said. “Sometimes I think about kissing you.”

Izou choked on air.

Oryou tilted her head.

“That’s what humans do to make each other feel better, right? Kissing.”

“That doesn’t mean you can kiss just anybody, you snake-woman!”

“…I don’t want to make Ryouma feel bad, so I guess I can’t. But you know, across the ocean, Ryouma said humans kiss just to greet each other. Besides, I don’t want to make you feel better.”

“Huh? Then why…?”

Suddenly, Oryou had the front of his kimono in tight fists and shoved him against a tree. Their bodies were so close, he could feel the air thin between them, and her eyes—

Her eyes were never more beautiful.

“Wait! You idiot, what if someone sees us?!”

“You made Oryou-san sad. Prepare for the consequences.”

She closed her eyes, floated off the ground, and pressed her soft lips against his scarlet cheek.

Dragons gave him strength, but Okada Izou would never see her again.

The year was 1865. It was spring.

They said his head was on a pike for all to see.

“I’m sorry, Oryou-san. Could you let me be for a while?”

Ryouma’s throat was tight. Oryou knew, because her throat was tight, too.

Oryou didn’t know where to go, so she went to the river. The frogs must’ve known she’d come alone because they were nowhere to be found. It was weird, because the weather was damp enough for them to relish in and yet somehow, they knew there was no loud bug to alert their senses and tell them to leave. Maybe, Oryou thought, she shouldn’t be here either. There was no lazy bug to pass the time with. No warm bug to sit with, shoulder to shoulder. No kind bug to tell her it was time to walk her home. It was just Oryou and the waters, clear as they were that February.

Oryou didn’t understand it. Humans had other things to worry about. There were creatures bigger than humans. Some of them were even stronger than Oryou. But the humans were scared of Ryouma. He’s dangerous, they said. He’ll ruin us all, they said.

Was that why Izou was gone?

Was that why she couldn’t see him anymore?

Oryou sank into her scarf and closed her eyes.

It was so quiet.

The first thing Izou sees are ruby eyes.

“Hey bug,” their owner says. “Were you remembering bad stuff again?”

The woman with ruby eyes clicks her tongue as she pushes his bangs up to feel his temperature. His stomach is full. The room is white and cold. Her hand is warm.

“Stupid. You know remembering bad stuff only makes you feel bad. Only Oryou-san can remember the bad stuff now. This is why you’re a bug.”

He wants to tell her to stay the fuck out of his dreams, and that he’s pretty sure that’s not how Servant dreams work, but he’s having a hangover from last night and he can’t exactly get up to the kitchen to get umeboshi, let alone remember the way there.

So he settles for this.

“The hell are you yappin’ about, you snake-woman…?”

But instead of explaining herself, she gives him a command.

“Tell Oryou-san what you said that day.”

“What?”

“That day, by the river.”

Izou groans. “I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Heh.” Oryou smirks. “Coward.”

Izou can’t tell left from right and up from down, but his head aches enough to tell him he’s had enough. He grabs her by the shoulders and pushes her down.

“You…! You’re just lookin’ for some divine punishment, aren’t you?”

Now _she’s_ confused. Serves her right. Coward.

“Shut up,” she says. “You’re making this weird.”

It then occurs to Izou that they’re on a bed, and looking away is not something cowards do. It’s not, because he does the same thing.

“The hell are you blushing for?” he asks.

“…None of your business,” she says.

And he still doesn’t know what she wants him to say.

“Hey, bug. You’re here to protect Ritsuka and Ryouma too, right?”

But when she asks the right questions, maybe he doesn’t need to.

“Oi. Answer me.”

Izou tugs his scarf over his lip.

“…Can’t do any good protectin’ if I die…”

For once, for _him_ , Oryou’s smile reaches her eyes, and in that moment, Izou knows his heart will always be simple.

“It’s okay. Oryou-san will protect you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/erythean)!


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